2/14/2006 @ 12:00PM

Homo Numismatus

Among Wall Street’s many mysteries–the secret deals, the hidden transactions, the devious schemes and swindles–are its underground societies. They meet behind closed doors in undisclosed locations; their dealings are obscure. Fortunes are made and lost, futures determined, fates decided. Traditions are created and kept.

On a blustery Thursday night this February, the members of one such society convened in a historical clubhouse in downtown Manhattan. They were united in their passion for money, but these were no ordinary financiers. They were coin collectors.

The New York Numismatic Club was founded in December 1908, and its members meet once a month for dinner. They’ve never yet missed a meeting–not for the declarations of war in 1917 or 1941. Not for Sept. 11, 2001. In order to join the club, you must be invited by a member and attend at least three meetings; the club’s board of trustees will then review your application and vote. No more than two dissenting votes are allowed.

There are currently 200 members, about 30 of whom attend the monthly meetings. The youngest member is in his late 20s, but the majority of the men (and they are nearly all men) are well into their golden years.

Coin collectors are a nervous set of people. Theft is foremost on their minds, and they are fanatical about maintaining their privacy. None of the club members I spoke with would consent to let me print his name. Most refused to reveal how much his collection was worth, let alone where it was stored.

“I keep my coins here and there around the city,” said one member with a vague, dismissive nod of his head. “In bank vaults. In safe places.”

“I’ve never seen all of my quarters at one time,” a collector of early American coins said, sighing wistfully.

Ask him to describe his coins, however, and a collector’s eyes will light up.

“This one here, this is a coin from ancient Rome,” said a gray-haired gentleman, drawing out a dime-sized disc from his pocket. “Julius Caesar had it minted shortly before he was assassinated. In fact, it was one of the reasons for his downfall. The Romans weren’t used to seeing the images of their rulers on currency–only kings did that, and they thought it was further proof that Caesar was about to make himself king.”

Coin collectors are often highly educated, well versed in both history and literature. According to a survey conducted by the Colorado Springs, Colo.-based American Numismatic Association, most coin collectors are doctors, followed closely by lawyers and accountants. They often start collecting at a very early age. And they are passionate about their collections–even a bit obsessive.

“I was on a business trip in Europe a couple years ago when I found out that a very rare early-American coin would be going up for auction in Boston the next day,” one collector told me. He flew back the very same night in order to be able to bid on it.

“I had to have it,” he said, shrugging. One day–and $175,000 later–the coin was his.

But the joy of coin collecting is always tempered by the fear of being robbed. Hoping to find a collector who’d be willing to go on the record and talk about his collection, I called Stack’s Rare Coins, located in New York City and one of the most prestigious dealers in the business. Might any of their customers be willing to sit down and speak frankly with me?

“What did you say your name was?” asked a suspicious employee. I repeated it. “And you’re with Forbes?” I reassured him that I was. “All right, well, I’ll have to look you up before I can give you any information about our clients,” he said.

Look me up?

“How do I know you’re not just a thief trying to make an easy score?” he asked curtly, by way of explanation.

At one level, the paranoia is easy to understand. After all, coins are small and easily portable, and unlike paintings, for instance, they are also relatively easy to sell. The rare-coin marketplace is as large as $3 billion a year, according to some estimates.

“People think of coin collections as money,” a member of the Numismatic Club explained. “Which, of course, they are.”

And while large-scale robberies are relatively rare, nearly every nickel-and-dime dealer has a story to tell about small-time thugs who make off with a couple thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise. At the Numismatic Club dinner, news of a theft at the New York International Numismatic Convention, held in January, spread quickly. One collector, it seems, was held up as he walked back to his car and robbed of the coins he had purchased just that day.

In a safe environment, however, most coin collectors will happily trot out specimens from their collections. The Numismatic Club dinner concluded with a lively show-and-tell where members laid out some of their rarest and most interesting coins. Each was then given a strict three minutes to describe what he had brought. After everyone had spoken, the collectors drifted around the room and examined the coins more closely, offering admiration, praise and numismatic advice.

An impromptu jury even awarded one lucky collector a medal for the best in show. On its front was the organization’s seal–a toga-swathed figure holding a torch in one hand and a coin in the other. On its back, a blank scroll supplied a space wherein the recipient’s name could be engraved. The winner of that particular evening’s contest had brought in coins from ancient Greece, Rome and 19th-century America.

“This is by far the most exciting part of the meeting,” said a member. “It’s really what most of us come for.”